Open the door beside the ravine and climb over the flower beam. The road enters the shadow of peaks and mountains, and the wind comes to wisdom. Singing the snow at night, the dream of spring closes the cloud room. More importantly, you can play the piano at the same time.
Slightly warm spring, light snow is still residual. The silver shop is getting wet, and the Jue color is still cold. There are no willow flowers, nor autumn dew.
There is still snow in the mountains, and Lin Bai Mei has opened. The frozen spring scenery is intermittent and clear.
Think about that spoonful of snow, which is the same as beads. God should have a word, but you can't do it from me.
The snow outside the window is clear and the eaves are dripping into ice. The promenade is densely tiled, and the wind in the evening courtyard is getting bigger and bigger.
Bamboo rings and the wind is in array, and there is a little snow in the window. Chai Fei sings frozen dogs, and paper tiles peck hungry crows.
Should be disappointed, Jiangjin thousand trees, late smoke late snow. Flowers are like old friends and people are like geese.
The snow outside the window is clear and the eaves are dripping into ice. The promenade is densely tiled, and the wind in the evening courtyard is getting bigger and bigger.
A few snows shine in the paper window, and the tea tripod rings loosely. Thank you, Nangong Chang, for cutting poems to comfort crazy feelings.